


Love Is Not A Victory March

by issiefrancis



Category: Saturday Night Live
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-22 04:19:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9583328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/issiefrancis/pseuds/issiefrancis
Summary: Just your typical behind the scenes of the Hallelujah cold open, because who doesn't need another one of those?!





	

It's a Tuesday night, and they're technically on the clock, they should be writing, but they gave up on that hours ago. Kate can't even think about Saturday. She doesn't think she can get up on stage and pull off being funny as Clinton if Trump wins, not knowing what might have been, not thinking about Jackie, not thinking about all the young queer women who are about to go through hell-

"And we're now calling Pennsylvania for Donald Trump," the announcer says in a monotone voice.

Everyone is still. Cecily gulps from her wineglass. Not even Colin or Michael jokes.

 _This isn't happening, this isn't happening, this isn't happening._ Aidy puts her arm around Kate, who is visibly shaking. Suddenly she's running out, Aidy and Cecily and Vanessa sharing worried, confused looks. _Who's going to check?_

Leslie slips into the hallway, ignoring them. Kate is slumped on the ground, crying in earnest. "I'm fine," she says, raising her head and wiping her eyes. "Oh- Leslie." Leslie sits beside her and holds her tight as she cries fresh tears.

"I know, baby." Leslie strokes the hair that's fallen out of her bun out of her face. "Hey, hey, breathe, Katie-Cat." Leslie pats her back. She realises she's been hyperventilating.

She struggles up to a sitting position, head throbbing between her eyes. "I'm good, I'm okay."

Leslie shakes her head. "You should go home. Get some sleep."

"I can't. Leslie, I _can't_. Trump's going to win and I'm going to have to be _her_ and Pence believes in conversion therapy and-" Her mind is running away from her now, so she shuts up before she says something insensitive or idiotic.

"Hey, let's not think about Saturday just now, huh? Lorne's not going to make you do it if you can't-"

"This is my _job_ , Leslie. I can't just _not_ do it."

"They'll work something out. You're only human, Katie-Cat, and this is pretty hard on all of us." _Let alone you_ , is what Kate hears. Is what Leslie intended.

And she feels guilty because she's not the only minority on the cast – they have Hispanic cast members and Jewish cast members – _Vanessa,_ she thinks, heart hurting – and god knows they've all got something invested in this election, but it feels so personal. So, so personal. It feels like Mike Pence is staring out of the television and throttling her himself, because she never thought this would happen in her lifetime.

She wipes away the tears, and sits up. "I'm good."

Leslie just raises an eyebrow. "Don't be an idiot, Kate."

"C'mon." Kate stands, woozy for a second, then offers Leslie a hand.

"Kate, I'm serious. I'll go home with you if you don't want to be alone. Or I can call Jackie. But don't feel like you gotta face everyone."

Kate smiles down at her friend. "I can't go running off, Les. I'm okay."

Leslie rolls her eyes. "Okay, Katie-Cat."

Cecily, Aidy, and Vanessa surround her in a hug when she comes back, no words needed. It's obvious that during their ten-minute interlude, the elections fell to Trump.

Kate just sighs and puts her head in her hands.

Lorne stands up. "I know we would normally be here much longer on a Tuesday, but in light of this… I think we should all take some time. I'm going to head home now, and anyone else is welcome to as well. I'll see you all tomorrow – don't be too worried if you don't have any sketches, Chris and Sarah have some that got cut over the last season if we need to fill out the time. Goodnight." He leaves.

The presenter continues to drone on, calling "Trump" on and on and on, until Colin stands up and pulls the plug.

The room is heavy. It feels unreal.

"Anyway, who wants a Xanax?" Aidy grins, wide, fake as the sets they work on, and then people start crying, and muttering, and it feels too big.

Kate leaves without any goodbyes.

***

Wednesday is hellish. When Leslie sees Kate, she hugs her, and then Kate starts crying again, in front of _everyone_ , and _jesus,_ she's really losing her cool-cat persona. But then Colin shakes his head and tilts it back like he's trying not to cry, and Aidy tears up and moves in to hug her, and then a wave of emotion swamps the room. She's not the only one.

It's comforting to be amongst those who understand.

Then Chris and Sarah come in, arms full of paper. They hang back quietly for a few minutes, until Aidy and Kate are standing arm in arm and Kate's tears are mostly dry. Colin and Leslie are leaning on each other.

"Hey, guys," Sarah begins. "What a night. We know this is hard, but guys, we've got a job to do. The country is hurting and we have a role to play. Kate, Chris will talk to you outside. Colin, Michael, Lorne wants your Update material ASAP. The rest of you, does anyone have any sketch ideas? We have to at least do something about the election."

Colin and Cecily both find notes, as does Leslie.

Chris motions Kate over. "Are you okay?" he asks.

Kate shrugs, determined not to cry again. "I mean…"

"I know." Chris nods. "Okay, to be entirely honest, Sarah and I have been struggling. You're immensely talented, Kate, but we don't want a repeat of last week's dress." That stings. Kate crosses her arms unconsciously. "And we want to respect our viewers. They'll be looking for something to hold onto." He sighs. "Any ideas?"

Kate rubs a hand over her face. "Honestly? I can't even picture it right now." _Deep breaths_. "There's the obvious – Trump's acceptance speech, Hillary's concession… No, I couldn't do that. Something where Hillary keeps thinking it's a nightmare. None of those are original, though. Or respectful enough, I think." Kate shrugs again. Chris is taking notes, but nodding along in agreement.

"Thanks. Chin up, McKinnon. We'll work something out." Chris pats her shoulder and she turns back to sit up behind Leslie as she pitches sketches.

Leslie shoots her a smile as Sarah critiques her work.

***

It's Thursday when Kate realises what she needs to do. The cold open has been stumping everyone – for the first time in a long time, Lorne opened up to suggestions from everyone. None of them sat right for Kate, and she ended up leaving the meeting near tears, having point-blank refused to do every sketch pitched.

"Lorne!" She knocks on his office door, hoping there's no one important in there.

She hears " _It's Kate,_ " and then "Come in!"

She opens the door and sees Chris and Sarah sitting opposite Lorne. _Crap_.

"Okay, I have our cold open. Sarah, Chris, I'm sorry for being such an absolute _dick_ yesterday. But hear me out. Wait, no. Come with me." She's shaking as they follow her to the piano.

She sits down, settling into her Hillary impression. "I heard there was a secret chord," she begins, relaxing almost immediately. You never forget _Hallelujah_. She doesn't even realise she's crying until she chokes over the last syllable of the last _hallelu-u-ujah_. Turning to her audience of three, she manages, "And live from New York, it's Saturday Night!", her voice breaking on the last syllable.

God knows she had never thought she would be the kind of person who cried at work, but there's a first time for everything.

"Kate, you're an absolute star. Yes." Chris and Sarah are both nodding along aggressively, Sarah a bit moist-eyed herself.

" _I'm not giving up, and neither should you_. The end. You've got to say something." Sarah sniffles out.

"I think we should shorten it," Chris adds. "Keep it simple. Cut _you say I took the name in vain_ and _maybe there's a god above_?"

Kate nods. "Thank god you liked it. I was starting to think I might have to buy you guys chocolate to apologise for yesterday."

The heavy moment is gone, and Sarah laughs. "I mean, please do."

Kate sticks her tongue out.

***

At dress on Friday, the whole room is silent when she finishes.

"And live from New York, it's Saturday Night!" She turns to face the camera, barely breathing, feeling her heart break, her lip trembling, eyes full.

There's a standing ovation. She sits, overwhelmed, until the stage hand taps her shoulder and she has to get up so they can take away the piano. She stays in the centre of the stage, arms wrapped around herself, unable to move, until Vanessa slips in, in full suburban-mom costume already, and tugs her out the back.

"I love you," she says, holding her tight. "This is exactly what we need."

Kate nods, past the point of crying, past the point of no return, past feeling like anything is real. "Thank you."

"I gotta go. Hair and make up, now, okay?" Vanessa rushes away and Kate pads to hair and make up, letting the soothing routine and the burbling chatter of the artists as they work lull her. She has two more impressions to go and her knees are shaking already.

The rest of the night passes in a blur, eclipsed by her performance. She sleeps through the night for the first time since Monday, but wakes up Saturday even more shattered than before.

***

Saturday, she doesn't know how she's going to do it. Normally, she doesn't even notice her stage nerves, but tonight is different. She vomits before the show. She leans her head on the toilet seat, tears and bile mingling on her upper lip, trying to breathe deeply.

"You okay in there, Katie-Cat?"

"Just pre-game nerves, I'm fine!" she calls back to Leslie, wiping her mouth off. She brushes her teeth and holds damp paper towels to her cheeks before going into hair and make up.

She takes her place at the piano, protected for a few minutes by the darkness of the stage. Then the lights come on and she begins.

She's carried by nerves and exhaustion right through the first verse, even able to muster up some facial expressions to keep the audience amused, but half-way through the second, she loses it. " _Love is not a victory march_ ," and she remembers the hundreds, thousands, of queer women she's speaking for, and it hurts so much, she pauses for a beat to catch her breath, and the whole room feels her pain as she sings the final verse.

Her pitch isn't great, but she's holding back tears and she knows everyone knows.

"And live from New York, it's Saturday night!" She's still only just holding back her emotions, but she knows the audience forgives her. It feels natural to be grieving on stage, just as she has celebrated on stage. She hopes, prays, that this is goodbye for Hillary, that they can offer her some dignity now.

Then the all-clear is given, they've gone to the credits, and she stands, sobbing, as the stage hands remove the props. Vanessa guides her off the stage with gentle hands, and Cecily and Aidy are waiting to hug her, everyone in full costume. They lean together for a few moments, feeling the finality of the moment. They're putting the dreams of millions of American women to rest.

**Author's Note:**

> No disrespect intended to the people characterized here.


End file.
